<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>An honest answer by Rattle</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912682">An honest answer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rattle/pseuds/Rattle'>Rattle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stardew Valley (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Jokes, Humor, Multi, Pining, please don't take this too seriously, rated M for Moron</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:02:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,660</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rattle/pseuds/Rattle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The farmer is very horny for a certain young man. Also very polite, very insecure and very dishonest…</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sebastian/Player (Stardew Valley)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>An honest answer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>“It has never been like this and now it is exactly the same again.” ©</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you know my son?” she asks. Her face is wide and endearing, her expression friendly. You manage not to choke on air. You know him just a little. </p><p>You also know that with the intense and desperate ferocity of you masturbating to thoughts of him, not only could you soon strike a light, but that this light would surely illuminate the darkest reaches of the world and burn the Gotoro Empire armies down. </p><p>Also, that if you don’t start switching hands soon, someone surely will notice all the muscles you’re thus bound to inevitably accumulate.</p><p>An honest answer would be, <em> “I do, and I would like your son to deepthroat me.” </em></p><p>The answer you do give is, “Not very well, Robin, no.”</p><p>“He lives downstairs.”</p><p>Your smile is cordial as you howl on the inside, <em> “I wish he lived in my downstairs!” </em></p><p>“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you if you’re nice to him.”</p><p>You’d like to be nice to him. To give him useful gifts, take him on thoughtful dates, to have long conversations with him, in particular about searching for meaning among the absurd while facing inevitable existential dread, to express unfeigned interest in things that make his own life worth living, to see if you could make him come using only your mouth, no hands, to… </p><p>“He’s a little shy.”</p><p>On the surface, so are you. Alright, maybe not just on the surface. You are very, very shy too! That doesn’t stop you from wishing to rip off Sebastian’s clothes and paint still-life on his chest with your tongue. </p><p>*</p><p>“It turns out Abigail’s a pretty good drummer. And Sebastian seemed to really want her in the band...”</p><p>An honest reply would be, this internal screaming that blares in your head right now, but out loud. Like the world’s loneliest, dumbest, most pathetic trombone that you are. And then, maybe, running face first into the wall of Elliott’s cottage and, probably, also sprinkling some sand on your head, pretending it’s ashes. </p><p>The reply you do give is, “That’s great, I’m really happy for you, Sam.” And a pat on the shoulder, and a polite smile, and a candy bar to share.  </p><p>The three of them, so great together, and you, a nuisance. You need a cry, and more candy. You promise to come over for band practice and to bring snacks.  </p><p>*</p><p>“Why do you keep coming to see me? It doesn't make any sense.”</p><p>He hides his gaze as you search for an appropriate answer. What would an honest one be? <em> Because I want to climb you like a tree? Because I want to see if I could make you moan my name? Because what’s the deal with that little dip in your collarbone, may we go to the Saloon so I can drink shots out of it in a back room? Please, I really want to! Please just kiss me and throw me on this bed and grind against me until I’m a mewling mess. Also, may I sniff your hair right now?  </em></p><p>Instead you say, “Because I think you’re really nice and interesting, and I’d like to be your friend.” </p><p>He turns away. He’s blushing. You feel horrible and you shouldn’t have said that. Maybe you should stop saying things altogether? Maybe you should head towards the mines, strip and run in, screaming “You guys all suck I bet you can’t kill me”? </p><p>*</p><p>Sitting atop the wrecked mantel of the Community Center is a cute talking apple. Specifically, it inquires, “Hai why you so horny!” while wiggling its tiny legs merrily. </p><p>Alright, so maybe you are horny and also a bit disgusting. But you’re really not that bad a person. You shake your head. The apple’s gone. </p><p>“Well, my dear apple,” you declare nonetheless, gesturing vaguely and dramatically. “It’s ‘cause I am lonely, touch-starved and also, quite frankly, head over heels in love. I firmly believe that wanting to gently hold someone’s hand beneath the moonlight and wishing for said hand to bring you to a screaming orgasm are not two mutually exclusive things.”</p><p>The apple reappears and loudly calls for an item called “bonk”. You do not know what that is, but you definitely need to start getting more sleep from now on. </p><p>*</p><p>You admire all these people, they’re nice, helpful and welcoming. You wish you could be completely sincere with them! You wish you could get drunk with one of your kind and lovely neighbours without having to fear that, after your third, you’d blurt out something like, “So Sebastian, huh. Do you think he depilates his ballsack or not? ‘Cause I really like men who do!” But you also wish you could run out to the small central square and shout, for everyone to hear, “I’m so lonely why won’t he love meeeeee!” But they would probably think you’re a creep if you start being honest with them… Maybe you are one. </p><p>*</p><p>You go to the concert, and you buy the demo, and you buy some merch including but not limited to a t-shirt, which you will now probably be sobbing into at night. </p><p>“Did you like it?”</p><p>“Loved it,” you declare. The honest answer would be, <em> “Full disclosure, Sam, I found a strategic vantage point from which I kept staring, unblinking, at Sebastian’s hands on the synth and imagining them flexing like that inside me, and maybe also frothing at the mouth a bit, and my ears were a bit deafened by that IFUCKINGLOVEYOUSOMUCHBABY inside my head, and by my heart trying to punch me in the throat every second, but I’m sure your guitar solo was rad, and I’m sorry for being such a shitty friend.” </em></p><p>Sebastian comes over and says, “I think we did alright.”</p><p>And you think,<em> “Please please please just do me.” </em></p><p>You buy another t-shirt because you feel so guilty your conscience is about to choke you, and not in a way you would have liked for Sebastian to choke you. </p><p>*</p><p>“This is hard,” he admits after the third pebble misses the board entirely. “Really hard.”</p><p>An honest answer, the one you ache to blurt out is, <em> “Not as hard as your cock would have been in my mouth!” </em></p><p>Instead you move closer and ask for permission to instruct him on how to aim properly. “Sure. It’s not like Sam would. Think he’s still mad about last Friday night.”</p><p>
  <em> “I’m still mad at myself for gawking at your perfect ass for an hour straight while you were busy beating his at pool.” </em>
</p><p>You show him, supporting his elbow with all the tenderness you’re able to muster. Which is, actually, quite a lot. His hair smells heavenly, and he smells heavenly, and you feel like crying.</p><p>But the latter can wait. Your self-control is a shoo-in for a few World Championships. Sebastian lands a shot and asks if you would like to get some food together. </p><p><em> “Food, yes, I want to just stuff my mouth with your cock, please, please may I!” </em> would have been an honest answer. </p><p>The one you do give is, “I’d love to!”</p><p>The Fortune Teller stares at you from across the table with a look that says “Oh, honey,” or, perhaps, “Yoba almighty, that’s pathetic!” and passes you a paper tissue just before you attempt to blow your nose into her velvet table cloth.  </p><p>“I j-just,” you sob, “I just really want to know if we’re going to live happily ever afte-e-e-e-er!” </p><p>The woman scratches the bridge of her nose with a long painted nail and waits out another trumpeting sound from yours. </p><p>“Sweetheart, that’s not what you want to know.” As you look up at her with bloodshot eyes, silently pleading for the winds of fate to bring clear answers to this mystical clairvoyant, she groans slightly and proclaims, “It’s somewhere in the range of six to eight inches, okay? Just. Be honest next time.”</p><p>*</p><p>“This is just a silly game, it doesn’t mean anything,” Abigail declares, smiling awkwardly, eyes wide. </p><p>The spirit board spelled out “I W A N 2 S U C K S E B B Y S B A L” just before you came to and knocked it off the table. </p><p>“Are you sure?” you ask, exasperated and praying for a sudden lumberjacking incident that would crash an oak tree through the roof and right into your head. </p><p>“Yeah, quite sure. Also sure that personally, I do not want to… S-U-C-K anything of the sort.”</p><p>*</p><p>Sam explains why he likes taking walks in the forest during this time of year, “The temperature is so comfortable,” as you bump into him while looking for forage and maybe also a tree fit for the aforementioned lumberjacking incident. “What about you?”</p><p>An honest answer, maybe right after <em> “Well, the temperature in my pants is never comfortable when your best friend is around but right now everything’s fine!” </em> would be <em> “Sam, listen, I’m so in love with Sebastian, please wingman me or berate me so I come to my senses, I’m dying here, dude!”  </em></p><p>Instead you say, “It’s alright, I suppose.”</p><p>“Hey, before I forget, Sebastian wanted to see you.”</p><p>You run off so fast that you forget things, too. Like imagining a response in the vein of, <em> “Do you think he would also want to gape me?!” </em>and then not saying it. </p><p>*</p><p>“So I wanted to talk about… Uhm… That whole friend business.”</p><p>“Huh?” you respond, your attention momentarily diverted from thinking <em> May I please nibble on your neck just a little? </em></p><p>“You said you wanted to be my friend. But… Could we, uhm… Could we ever be something more, maybe?”</p><p>
  <em> Could I jump your bones right now? Could we fuck each other senseless on this desk? Could I please just nnmmmfff  </em>
</p><p>You rein yourself in with considerable effort and make sure that everything is quiet in your head before saying, “Yeah. I think we could. In fact, I’d love to try.”</p><p>It’s the most honest answer of them all. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi pls send help</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>